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epitome of incomprehensibility
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My Name is Parvana by Deborah Ellis: bittersweet, reminds me of a couple of inadvertently famous cooks I’ve been hearing about, specifically the culinary stylings of Omar Khadr and Malala Yousafzai (who is reported to be starting her own cooking channel). Simple to chew, so suitable for those with younger and smaller teeth.
Conflict by Christine McNair: I had no idea what was in those chocolates. I guessed at liqueur and some kind of salt, but ashes? Really? And scraps of paper? The index at the back didn’t say much about the chocolates themselves, though it described some of their ingredients.
Mégot mégot petit mitaine by Johanne Alice Côté: the flavours went together beautifully, even if I didn’t know many of the words, ahem, spices… Lots of local vegetables, great variety, sometimes reminiscent of modernist French cuisine.
Chamber Music by James Joyce: too syrupy. Tastes like sex and adjectives. Mind you, there’s nothing wrong with sex and adjectives - those ingredients feature prominently in his best-known dish, though some people find the flavours there too complex.
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